


Desperate situations

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Facials, First Time, Oral Sex, Premature Ejaculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-02
Updated: 2010-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The study room at the Society's hall was empty and had a door that locked, and that was the most important thing, after all. Everything else - a bed, for instance - could wait; they couldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate situations

It was perhaps not how Ilphère had envisioned it, but desperate situations called for desperate measures. The study room at the Society's hall was empty and had a door that locked, and that was the most important thing, after all. Everything else - a bed, for instance - could wait; they couldn't. There had been a momentary threat of interruption, but Ilphère thought she had dealt with it quite smoothly. Menard had fumbled with the buttons, but finally managed to unfasten her gown, permitting her to step out of its voluminous confines. His own jacket lay crumpled on the floor, and they were working on his shirt together, which made it go slower rather than faster, as one would expect. Obviously growing impatient, he tugged too hard and one of the buttons went flying, but they both ignored it. He pushed her back against the desk, the entire length of his body pressed against hers, and she could feel his arousal, hard and eager, against her belly. She yearned to see it, to touch it...! Boldly, she grazed her hand across the bulge in his trousers, and was rewarded by the way he moaned against her mouth.

Removing her petticoats was an easier task, thankfully. Her corset she was less certain about - in particular, whether Menard would be able to help her reassemble it afterwards...! But she did want to be able to move more freely, and he seemed quite keen to help, so she showed him how to unfasten it with the hooks, leaving the laces untouched for the moment. They both gasped when it was at last removed - Ilphère because she could breathe deeply again, Menard no doubt for reasons of his own. His hands sought out her breasts, cupping them tightly over the thin fabric of her chemise, and Ilphère could hardly tell if it was the cool air of the room or his touch that made her nipples stand out so.

She felt almost dizzy with impatience, and any hint of fear or worry had left her, at least for the time being. It was but the work of an instant to unbutton his trousers and push them down around his ankles. She fumbled more with his drawers, but Menard was obviously glad to help her in her efforts, and soon they were down as well. Feeling incredibly daring, she wrapped her hand around his manhood for the first time, feeling its thickness, its length, the unexpected softness of its skin despite how hard it was...! "Gods," she heard him murmur. He was practically quivering with the effort of holding still.

"Is that good?" she asked, vaguely recalling one of Ysabeau's many instructions.

"Void, Ilphère, it's so good, unbelievable... Just move your hand a little, like this..." He put his fist around hers, showing her how to stroke him, at what speed, how tightly... She was a quick learner, and soon had him breathing hard, hips moving to match her pace. She had little sense of how long it might take for him to finish this way, but she found herself hoping it would last, just so that she could keep watching his face.

"Will you...," he managed to gasp out after a few minutes, "unh ...will you use your mouth?"

Ilphère had been worried about this, for Ysabeau's instructions on that subject had been maddeningly vague…! But if that was what he wanted, she was willing to try. Keeping her hand on him, she turned him around so that he could lean against the desk, and then knelt before him. It gave her a better look at him, for one thing. Her experience with such matters was mostly limited to artworks, and somehow he didn't look like that at all - and yet she found that, now, imagining such a thing going inside her was far from a repulsive or frightening prospect…!

Licking her lips, she gingerly touched them to the tip, uncertain of what to do from there. Should she try to take the whole thing into her mouth? It didn't seem like that would work. Experimentally, she licked the underside, tasting the salt of his skin on her tongue, then wrapped her lips around the entire tip. When he pushed deeper into her mouth with a loud groan, it startled her, and she pulled back, looking up at him curiously in case she had done something wrong. That was how the first burst of his seed came to hit her on the cheek, and the second on her throat, where it began to dribble down her chest. She gave a little shriek, and was immediately mortified that she had done so, because of course she should have known what to expect…!

"I'm sorry, gods, I'm so sorry," he babbled, wiping her face clumsily with his hand. "Shit, Ilphère, I didn't mean to…"

"It is fine," she said, as calmly as she could under the circumstances. "Do you have a handkerchief, perhaps…?"

Menard found his discarded jacket and retrieved a scrap of fabric from its pocket. She took the opportunity while he was distracted to dart her tongue out and taste the unfamiliar substance - just for research purposes, of course. It was salty, as Ysabeau had suggested, but more complex than that. Something like almonds, or soap...? She still found it difficult to imagine swallowing more than a few drops of it, but at least now she knew what it was like...and what it took to produce it. She felt a warm glow of satisfaction, akin to that she'd sometimes enjoyed when resolving a particularly tricky question in her research.

"Oh, void, your hair... I'm really, really sorry," he said again as he tried to clean her up.

"Please don't be…!" she insisted, dabbing at her chest with the hankie and giving him a reassuring smile. This time, he smiled back.

***

Blowing his load all over Ilphère's face was absolutely not what Menard had intended. He'd hoped she might swallow it, or at least that he'd have time to aim a bit better, instead of making a mess of things. That said, he felt a little bit guilty for how much he'd enjoyed doing it. Only a little, though. She was just so polite and proper all the time that seeing her like this, spattered and messy with his spunk, was unexpectedly erotic. His heart was still racing as he helped her up from the floor. "I want to do the same thing for you," he told her, hoping fervently that he'd be able to if she let him.

She perched lightly on the edge of the desk, knees still together. Laying his hands on her thighs, he gently moved them apart. "I think it'll work better like this," he told her with a smile.

"Oh, of course…!" She blushed prettily, and let him move her until she was in a better position. Her drawers were still on, but they were split at the crotch, so he didn't feel any need to ask her to take them off, having ready access to everything he wanted already. He kissed her as he touched her for the first time, feeling her soft hair, her ready wetness. "Oh...!" she gasped, wrapping her arms more tightly around his shoulders and tilting her face up towards his. Feeling more confident, he felt around until he found her opening, and slid a finger inside her. She cried out again, this time looking pained, so he drew back, worried.

"Didn't you like that?"

"Oh, well... it was just a little surprising, that is all," she replied. "You can try it again…"

He did so, trying to go more slowly and carefully this time. She gasped again, but nodded. After a few more tries, she stopped looking quite so pained each time he pushed into her, but she didn't seem to be enjoying it very much either. "Maybe," she suggested hopefully, "you could try using your mouth as well."

"Sure," he said, trying to sound casual, as though he knew exactly what he was doing and did this all the time. He knelt in front of her, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and dove in. Ilphère's sharp intake of breath seemed like a good sign, but it was hard not being able to see her face and guess what she was feeling. Her fingers were squeezed tight about the edge of the desk, though, and he thought that might be a good sign as well. Not knowing precisely where he was supposed to be aiming, he licked her tentatively at first, then had to stop to cough when a hair tickled his throat. "Sorry," he said, and tried again, pressing her legs further apart to try and give himself a better view of the situation. It still seemed almost impossible to see what he knew was supposed to be there, but maybe it didn't matter so much if he could see it or not, as long as it felt good to her...

She was patient for a time as he tongued her sloppily, but finally she cleared her throat and spoke up. "I...ah, have been doing some independent investigations of this subject," she began, and he had to suppress a sudden burst of laughter, allowing her to continue. "And I believe that if you apply more pressure just... here," she said, drawing his fingers to one particular spot, "that the results might be more... satisfactory."

"Here?" he asked, stroking the area she'd indicated with the tip of his finger. At the light touch her hips twitched, seemingly involuntarily, and she nodded, her cheeks pinkening slightly.

"Yes, please."

He tried to do as she'd instructed, licking more firmly about that spot. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, and occasionally she would move him slightly, as though she was steering him where she wanted him to go. With the commotion she was making, he figured it was worth it letting himself be steered. Her legs spread still wider, and out of the corner of his eye he could see her toes alternately pointing and curling up. Her cries were becoming more desperate, more agitated. It was just like Seth had said, Menard thought with another stifled laugh - her "oh!"s of pleasure were practically impossible to tell from her "oh!"s of academic discovery. The sounds she made at the end, though - those were different and, he hoped, for him alone.

It took them a quarter hour to get dressed again afterwards, and he had the nagging suspicion that anyone who had half a brain would immediately know what they'd been up to. Ilphère's hair was irretrievably messy, and some of her hairpins were nowhere to be found, so she had resorted to pulling it back into a loose braid. He was missing a button on his shirt, but hoped that his jacket would conceal that fact. "So, will we…" he said, at the same time as Ilphère pulled him down for another kiss, one that left him breathless and starting to stiffen again. "…again soon?" he finished with a smile when she finally let him go.

"Well, I certainly hope so!"

"My carriage is still waiting outside," he mentioned casually. "If you'd like a ride home, perhaps…"

Ilphère gave a little laugh that made his stomach quiver. "That would be lovely, thank you."

Menard took her arm, and made plans to tell the driver to take the longest possible route.


End file.
